Last days
by Johnny Wycliffe
Summary: It's the end of the war, and Colonel Sandra is one of two candidates for using the Gollop. What happens when the device is activated, and more importantly, what happens when everything's over? A short fic about the last mission in the game. Obvious spoilers. Should only be a few chapters. Dead, because I can't figure out how I want to go about it.


"Welcome to XCOM!"

Oh how I hate those words. It was half a year ago, mid-May when I was recruited for the XCOM project, and that's when I first heard that phrase.

I am Colonel Sandra Fredrickson, one of the veterans of the XCOM project. Currently, I am staring at the newest batch of recruits, separated into four groups for snipers, supports, heavies and assaults.

As usual, the recruits are a mix of nervous and excited. It's not like they knew anything about their circumstances. The get pulled out of their squad or unit or whatever and told that they're now working for an organization they've never heard of.

They certainly didn't tell me anything until my briefing. I clear my throat and all eye focus on me.

"Hello, all. My name is Colonel Fredrickson, and I am going to be introducing you to this facility. This building will be your home for the rest of this war, or the rest of you lives, whichever comes quicker."

Two of the twenty recruits laugh, then realize I'm serious.

"I'm sure you've noticed the increasingly more frequent news reports of alien sightings. I regret to inform you that these are real, despite the entirety of the world's government's attempts to conceal the truth. Currently, we are at war with this extra-terrestrial threat, and it is going to be your job to stop it."

I take a deep breath and open my mind, looking through the swirling miasma of thought to find what each individual is thinking. Most are confused, wondering if they had just been pulled into an elaborate hoax. One of them is in a panic, barely holding his composure, but three of them have potential. Two of those in the assault group and one in the support group all have calm heads and continue to wait for my next words.

"You will be outfitted with the latest technology, reverse engineered from the aliens themselves to advance our own capabilities up to their level."

The slide behind me shifts to display the two orange logos of the augmentation projects with a large version of the XCOM symbol in between them.

"There are three main branches that all of you are qualified for." I state, pulling out a laser pointer and turning it on. "The main branch is the one most soldiers take. You get the standard equipment and training, go out to fight when you're chosen, and hopefully survive the encounter."

I shift the laser over to the left, aiming at a picture of skull melting into slag. "The second route is to become a cyborg." Murmuring starts up before I can quash the noise. "I know what you're thinking, 'Who wouldn't go that route?' I will have to tell you that first of all, you have all four limbs amputated. Then I will have to tell you that the Mechanized Exoskeletal Cybersuits, or M.E.C.s, are always on the front lines in the thick of things. M.E.C. troopers have a habit of being targeted by the enemy's heavy units."

I move the pointer all the way to the right. "The last option is to have major surgery to modify your body. This includes adding an extra heart and enhancing vision, as well as giving you skin that can mimic your environment. If you go this route, you will find that battlefield conditions are easier to survive, but you will never be able to return to society for… various reasons."

That made a few of the recruits more nervous. The three I had picked out before though, they all are going through the options in their heads. Good.

"I will be taking you through the facilities and giving you all a basic rundown of the layout. If anyone has any questions, I will field them. But first-" I put on a pained smile. "Welcome to XCOM."

Several hands go up. I sigh and point to the first one.

"So, that giant asteroid that fell over Brazil-"

* * *

The rest of the tour went about as expected. These men and women are soldiers, and the best of the best. I know for a fact that we had at least four Navy SEALs on the project, though not all at once. Two of them are already on the wall.

At the end of the tour, everyone is supposed to pick a branch. They get to talk to a senior soldier to help them make the choice, and then they go off to gene therapy or surgery or the barracks.

I grip my cup of coffee and sigh.

"What's got you down?"

I look up to see the only smiling face in this whole damn facility. "Hello, Oleg. Just… Recruits."

He grimaces. "I know what you mean."

"At least they'll have a better survival rate than when we first started. Remember those days?"

"I remember more than you. Back then, we still had conventional weapons. Now everything's plasma rifles and plasma pistols- Hey, did you see George's new plasma sniper? The thing is blinding!"

I chuckle a bit. Oleg is the only cheerful guy on this entire station. Something about him just makes everyone a bit happier. Maybe the aliens just haven't broken his spirit, like so many others.

"I did see it. He even let me test it. It has a lot of kick, but he says that he'll be able to handle it properly."

He smirks. "That meathead would tell you a railgun easy to handle."

"True."

Oleg shifts to his other leg. "Got any god troops among the new meat?"

"Three. Two assaults and one support. One of the assaults is going into the M.E.C. program along with the support, and the last one is headed for psy-med to get tested."

He purses his lips. "I keep forgetting we have that. I mean, I never went down there to get tested."

I glare at him. "That's because you're either on the front lines or have ten doctors trying to save you at any given time." I blink twice. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be there now?"

"Medical, or psy-med?"

"Medical."

"Got discharged an hour ago." He holds up his right arm in a pose meant to mimic a muscle-builder flexing. On him, the fabric of his off-duty clothes just drapes on the metal frame of his artificial limb. "Can't keep a good cyborg down, you know?"

"Uh-huh. Did they manage to fix your cybersuit yet?"

He winces. "Actually, Getting hit with two sectopod lasers in a row kinda destroyed it beyond repair. They made me a new one. It should be done before tomorrow's test."

I grimace. The Gollop chamber. We finished construction on it yesterday, and we were told to wait until this new batch of recruits came in to test it. Meanwhile, there's a giant freaking alien mothership hovering over the coast of Brazil. We had lost Brazil before I was in XCOM, and there's rumors that the president of Brazil was mind controlled to withdraw support, which makes getting there a bit… complicated.

"Speaking of the Gollop test, who do you think is going to get picked?" I ask.

"Between you and Desmond? Hmm." He taps his chin a few times. "I would bet that he gets picked. Then, no matter if works or it kill him, a problem gets solved either way."

I roll my eyes. "Right."

"Well, better get back to the barracks. Heard someone took my bunk, and I need to go evict him."

I smirk. "Her. Angeline took your spot."

His jaw drops open in mock surprise. "I'm going to have to think up something more interesting then what I had in mind, then." A wide grin splits his face as he takes off for the barracks.

I watch him go, then push off the wall and down the rest of my coffee. Time to check on the recruits.

* * *

Five hours. Only five hours until the test. The commander hasn't picked anyone yet, and… well, I'm not supposed to know it, but he's currently incommunicado. Bradford has been running around the facility, looking for the man- or woman, I suppose.

The commander is a very, very odd person. Nobody aside from the top engineer, top scientist and Bradford have seen them, but we grunts are constantly assured that there is actually a human making those decisions on the field.

Kyle, the nerdiest guy I've met on the battlefield, has speculated that there was a supercomputer controlling us. He had several good points, too. He noted that each of us gets a new set of instructions every ten seconds, almost like clockwork, and that our instructions were almost always perfect.

I pointed out that if our commander was a computer, then wouldn't every move be perfect?

His retort was that a sufficiently advanced program could still mess up.

Then Kyle waylaid a passing engineer and they got into an argument over the feasibility of an A.I. running everything.

Not that I wanted to think about it, but Kyle's argument pop into my head again. The commander doesn't ever seem to be off duty. Any time that the aliens are attacking, he in charge of the assault. Word is, he's also in charge of personally managing the layout of the base, what gets purchased, who to hire, etcetera. If the commander isn't a computer, they sure do have a lot on their plate.

Of course, going missing kind of means that it wasn't a computer, huh?

Bradford enters the darkened room for the second time since I decided to hole up in here. He throws off a salute without interrupting his search and ducks out before I can open my mouth.

This room is normally completely barren, seeing as it's the memorial room. Everyone finds it too depressing, except me. I come here to contemplate my mistakes and settle my mind. I draw strength from those that came before me, I think.

There's a total of thirty-two names carved into the black granite. After the names come the medals that each soldier earned posthumously. The first four are the Prime group, signified by a "1" inside a shield, the first group to encounter aliens. Nobody survived that mission, but the data sent back convinced the world to create XCOM. The Prime group is never mentioned when discussing casualties, unless talking about honoring them. Further down, ten names that I don't know. These soldiers died before I was recruited.

The XCOM project was operational for about a month when I joined, I think. A third of the casualties in this war were in the first month. After I joined, I watched a lot of others die as well. I was recruited at the same time as nine others, and I'm the only one of that group still standing. Everyone else…

Well…

I touch the names of those I knew on a personal level. Those I shared a drink with when we got home. Those I toasted when they didn't come back. Then I turn and head out to the cafeteria. I may not feel the best, but I can at least force something down. I would probably regret it if I got sent out to attack the mothership on an empty stomach.

* * *

"Desmond."

He smirks at me. "Sandra."

"Has a decision been reached?"

"Of course! I will be entering the chamber and activating the Gollop device. You needn't worry your pretty little head about it."

My eye twitches involuntarily, but I keep my cool. Engaging him would only make it worse. I know this from a ton of experience.

"I wonder if I will ascend to godhood?" He muses out loud. "I always wanted to be able to tear things apart with my mind. Or maybe, be able to fully control multiple people at once? The possibilities are endless!"

Despite myself, I open my mouth. "How about you focus on a way to get into the enemy ship-"

"Teleportation! That would be a cool power." He grins, though there is no mirth contained in it. "Do you ever wonder what's going to happen to us once this project is over?" His grin fades and a serious expression crosses his face.

This is scarier than his grin, especially since this is the first time I've seen him so serious.

I stutter for a second before I can recover. "I-I guess we go back to our normal lives."

"Really? I don't think that's possible. See, those that go into the gene mod program don't get to go home, right? Well, we're in the psychic program. You think they're going to let people who can read minds out when they won't let those with corrected vision out?"

I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out.

"And those M.E.C. troops. Their cybernetics are so advanced I doubt that they'll be released either. Hell, this entire place is rigged with a nuke in case the aliens decided to invade here again. They may just set that off with everyone in here."

"Why don't you just shut up?"

His face gets an offended look. "I'm allowed to speculate."

"Do it in your head."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say."

We sit in silence for a few more minutes until Doctor Vahlen walks in with a clipboard. "colonel Desmond Summers?"

He stands to attention. "Yes?"

"You have been selected to use the Gollop machine first."

A nasty grin splits his face and he looks over his shoulder at me. I grunt.

"Out of curiosity, how was I selected?" He asks.

Vahlen looks up from her clipboard and gives him a look of distaste. "It was decided by flip of an American quarter. The commander was… indecisive."

That deflated his sails a bit.

I stand up and stretch. "Well, I'm going to gear up while you get your new power or whatever."

His smirk comes back as two of the new recruits, on from America and the other from Germany escort him down to the lowest level of the facility.

I shrug and take the elevator up to the barracks.

There, everyone is bustling about in full combat gear, with the exception of the M.E.C. operators, who are busy elsewhere. The room takes on an eerie green glow as more of the plasma weapons come online. I see one of the rookies has a laser LMG instead of a plasma variant, but he still has the blaster launcher.

The survivability of this group is a lot higher than it was at the start of this war. We have armor that can shrug off a conventional rocket, grenades with all range of applications, and weapons that were unimaginable a year ago.

As they finish preparations, they all look to me. I am the oldest surviving member of this group currently present, what with Desmond and Oleg out, so I guess the inspirational speech falls to me.

"Okay, everyone. You know what to do. You see something not human, you pull the trigger, and you pull the trigger until the thing in front of you stops moving. Recruits, you know what we're facing, correct?

The fifteen recruits not in gene therapy or getting cut up to fit into M.E.C.s nod. I notice the one that was panicking yesterday is now calmer with four medpacks and a plasma rifle in his hands.

"Then, if everyone's ready, we're going to head ou-AHHHH"

My head threatens to tear itself apart from the inside. Voices, yelling at me, at Desmond, at the other, weaker Psychic soldiers-

And then it stops. I blink my eyes open to see the ceiling of the barracks and several worried faces.

I stand up easily and see that the other psychics were obviously hit with the same attack.

It was an attack, wasn't it?

"You okay?" Asks Sergeant Valencia.

I nod my head. "Just… Desmond must have activated the Gollop." I look around. "Okay! Everyone to the hanger! Last one there has to walk to Brazil!"

* * *

Of course, it wasn't that simple. We were prepared for an all-out assault on the mothership but-

"What do you mean, the Ethereals are giving us safe passage?" Bradford asks Desmond.

Desmond looks mildly annoyed, but primarily confused. "They… They're testing us."

"What do you mean?" Doctor Vahlen asks.

"They… They wanted us to develop like we did, with psychic powers. Remember you were wondering why they started by only sending smaller mooks? Well, they were testing our potential as a species. They wanted to see if we could evolve into a race for them to use."

Silence for a few seconds.

"So, we can just waltz in there and take over their-" Desmond suddenly groans loudly, grabbing his skull. I stop speaking and look at him, only for him to wave me on. "So we can just take over? After all that?"

Desmond slowly lets go of his head, but I can tell he's still in significant pain. "It sounds like they have one more test for me. For us. They're willing to let one carrier onto their ship, but say that they'll attack any ships that don't have me on them if they get close."

"So. In the end, we can send the Skyranger… and that's it." Doctor Vahlen muses. "I must admit, this has seemed like a test, has it not?"

"One hell of a test." I mutter. "So, what now?"

The answer comes in the form of a message arriving on my arm-mounted communications screen. I read aloud. "Report to the Skyranger hanger immediately. You are leaving in five minutes."

Desmond glances up from his own communications screen and runs for the hanger. I follow close on his heels, barely catching Bradford's "Good luck." On the way out.

I head to the hanger to find a lot of confused soldiers. I quickly repeat the situation to all of them. Several of the recruits look bewildered.

"So, we aren't going to fight then?"

"Only six of us are." Says Desmond. "The commander has already given orders to those who are going. If you aren't coming, then please vacate the area."

I add in "Don't stop being prepared. We may need backup if things go sour. Stay on your toes and be ready for anything."

Sergeant Valencia's eyebrow lifts as he looks at his display. "Alright, everyone not going come with me. We're to set up for a potential raid on this facility. There's a chance that this is a deception."

In the end, Desmond, Oleg, Kyle, Lieutenant Greyson, Corporal Mikaela Anderson and I were sent on the mission.

This mission, were six soldiers attempt to take on the biggest thing anyone has seen flying.


End file.
